


121. Getting up for howlers and cannibals

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [121]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	121. Getting up for howlers and cannibals

_**Ryan Kwanten & [](http://www.journalfen.net/users/sam_worthington/profile)**_[**sam_worthington**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/sam_worthington/) get up before dawn for howlers and cannibals  
[backdated to Peru: follows [Sam's sexy wake-up call](http://www.journalfen.net/users/sam_worthington/14955.html)]

Hiking pants shoved into knee-high rubber boots, Sam frowns as the boat drifts all of ten feet across one side of the river and drops them on the rocks on the other side. "I thought it was a lot farther than this," he murmurs to Ryan, amused, tired and beyond even bothering to ask their guide what's going on. They'll find out soon enough.

His hands stuffed into his pockets, Ryan shrugs. "I know we're supposed to walk a ways," he says, squinting into the distance like the trees will give him some clues. Fuck, he's exhausted. He would have liked to sleep in this morning, even though waking Sam up in the dark was bloody brilliant. But the macaws apparently keep a very strict schedule, and he doesn't want to miss them.

Sam nods and stumbles after their guides, the stones making for uneven footing, sharp edges felt through the soles of their boots. Twice they cross ponds that get deeper and deeper until Sam's certain his boots are going to fill with water before they suddenly go shallow again and he breathes a sigh of relief. The idea of sitting around with wet feet for a few hours is not an appealing one. He does that shit enough when he's working. "Tell me again why we're doing this?" he teases Ryan. Unable to pass up the chance to grumble, even though he's not really serious. He'd do this a dozen times over if it made Ryan happy.

"Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?" Ryan glances back over his shoulder to check that Sam is still following okay. "I mean, unless you want to come back..." There's a thought: every step they take, they're eventually going to have to retrace on the return trip. _Damn_. He winces as a sharp stone digs into his foot, and falls back into step with his lover. "You don't have a rubber kink, do you?"

"Not anymore," Sam quips, grinning at Ryan.

Ryan snickers. "At least it's not raining," he says after a moment, his focus on his feet now that he's nearly slipped. That would be really embarrassing.

"This is the bright side of things?" Sam kids. "Glass half full?" He nudges Ryan's shoulder with his own, smiling at his lover, nodding ahead as they seem to finally be coming to the end of the rocks, their group trudging up another mud hill and into another patch of jungle.

"Boots half full," Ryan mutters. His toes are _freezing_.

"Did you get water in them?" Sam asks, suddenly concerned, pushing branches out of the way as they struggle through the mud, keeping pace with the group.

"Yeah. You should see me in snow," Ryan jokes.

"When we get where we're going, you'd better dump them out," Sam says. "I brought my travel towel. You can dry them. I _might_ have an extra pair of socks." God knows what he's got left in his daypack.

"Awww, sweetie," Ryan teases under his breath, but he's secretly delighted with the concern. He cranes his neck to see where their guide has gone. "Oh, wait. I think I see... chairs!"

"About fucking time," Sam mutters, following Ryan to where the guides have a long line of camping seats set up and are pouring tin mugs of coffee from thermoses for everyone as they're seated. "Here," he hands over his travel towel and a spare pair of socks and digs out their binoculars.

"Thanks." Ryan pins it all under his arm and reaches out for a cup of hot coffee, passing it immediately to Sam. When he sits down he pulls off his boots with a squish, and sure enough, spills a couple inches of water out of each.

Sipping at the too-hot coffee, binoculars around his neck, Sam watches Ryan, wincing at the flood of water that pours from his boots. He sits back. "You can put your feet up on my leg if you want. While you get dried and change your socks."

Ryan raises an eyebrow at that, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. "That's okay," he whispers, because he knows he has too much damn trouble stopping himself from touching Sam once he gets started. "Don't need you any wetter, either."

"No one else is paying attention," Sam whispers back. "Feet. Up. You can't spend the next two hours cold and wet and those are the only extra pair of socks I have."

It's hard for Ryan to disobey a direct order from Sam. _Really_ hard. Still he hesitates a moment longer, nervous about what people might think. But then he gives in, peeling off his soaked socks. He feels awkward propping his feet up on Sam's thigh, but it does make things easier while he quickly gets things cleaned up.

It feels good, having Ryan touch him, even if it's only his feet on his leg. Sam sips at his coffee, looking around casually, nodding and smiling at their guide as he points out a small blue parrot overhead. "You want the binoculars first or the camera?" he asks Ryan.

"Camera," Ryan answers. He wrings out his wet socks, then uses them to try and mop out some of the dampness from inside his boots. "That way you can spot something and then tell me where to aim."

There's just starting to be a little light and Sam whips his head around at a sound rolling across the jungle like thunder. "Don't tell me it's going to fucking rain."

"No rain," their guide says, taking a step closer. "Howler monkey."

"Are you fucking serious?" Ryan murmurs in disbelief. He looks around like he's actually going to see one, then gives it up and looks back to their guide. "That's a monkey?" Or many, by the sound of it.

Jose laughs. "Yes. Many monkeys. Twenty, thirty, in two different trees. They howl at each other."

"No shit," Sam says, listening with awe. "Are they big?"

Jose tilts his head from side to side. "They are big compared to the other monkeys here but not really big. They have a large hyoid bone," he touches his throat, "which makes them so loud." He smiles. "They can be heard for 3 miles - almost 5 kilometres."

Ryan just raises an eyebrow at that. "Three miles," he echoes softly, amazed. He pulls on Sam's last pair of socks and wiggles his toes. "Is that louder than a lion?" he asks Jose. "And how far away are they, can we see them?"

"They are considered the loudest land animal," Jose tells them. "And these ones?" He looks through his own binoculars. "No. They are maybe two miles?"

"Incredible," Sam murmurs. "Do they do this all day?" He doesn't remember hearing them last night.

Jose shakes his head. "No. Dawn and dusk and sometimes during the day if they are fighting." He smiles. "Here come the macaws..."

Ryan looks around but he doesn't see anything, and he wonders just what Jose is talking about. But then a low background hum grows steadily louder, and suddenly thousands of colorful birds begin to descend, filling the canyon opposite. His jaw dropped in awe, he forgets all about the boot in his hand, only halfway back on his foot.

Jose quickly sets up the telescope he's brought with them. He's got it on a tripod and adjusts the focus until it's zoomed right in on the clay lick and the largest concentration of macaws. He goes over the different types, showing them detailed drawings on a laminated reference card he's brought with him. "You can take photos through the telescope," he tells Ryan, showing him how to get the lenses on both lined up.

"Oh, cool," Ryan breathes, playing around with the focus to take a few shots. He eases back to look with the naked eye, thrilled. Then he shoots his lover an excited grin.

Sam grins back, asking Jose about the macaws and why they eat the clay. He gets the several-different-theories-but-no-one-really-knows answer, and borrows Jose's reference card, trying to see if he can catch sight of at least one of each different type. "So, was the walk and getting your feet soaked worth it?" he asks Ryan, when Jose's stepped away again to answer another guest's questions. He's pretty sure he can tell just from that grin Ryan keeps flashing him but still...

"I knew it would be. I'm not the one who was complaining," Ryan teases, but there's no heat behind the words. "This is _awesome_. Did you know, when you said you wanted to see Machu Picchu, that there would be all this other cool stuff too?"

"I was hoping we might make it into the Amazon but I didn't really have any idea what we'd see or where we'd stay," Sam says, raising the binoculars again as something catches his eye down near the water. "Um. There's a caiman eating something down there..." he shudders, handing over the binoculars to Ryan. "Down by that log, to the right of the white bird."

Curious, Ryan checks out the view. It's hard to identify much beyond the long gnashing jaws, but after a couple more moments... "Holy crap!" Ryan exclaims, shoving the binoculars back at Sam. "That's, like. It's another caiman!" He grimaces, but of course he's too fascinated to look away. "They're cannibals!"

"Seriously?" Sam takes another look. Sure enough... "That's disgusting," he says, shuddering again. "It looks like a smaller one. Like a lot smaller. I hope they don't eat their babies."

"Yech," Ryan replies, looking at Sam in horror. "Hey look, birds," he says blandly, and chuckles as he lifts his camera again. "I don't even know what we're going to do with all these pictures, man."

"We could do one of those photo books," Sam suggests. "Maybe blow up a couple of the really good ones." He smiles at Ryan. "We still have a few empty spots on our walls."

Ryan chuckles, stretching his arms overhead and simply watching the show for a moment. "Yeah, not for long."

Sam should be watching the birds, he knows, but he can't help it. His eyes are on Ryan, his thoughts on being here, like this, with him. How fucking lucky he is. "We can store a few, rotate every couple of months," he suggests.

"Uh-huh." Ryan tries to follow the path of a macaw as it swoops and dives, but he quickly loses it among the others. He glances aside at Sam only to find himself being watched. And he gives his lover a slow grin, almost as good as a touch.

Sam returns the grin, taking the camera from Ryan so he can get a picture of his lover, capture this moment. "I can't believe they do this every day," he says, sitting forward, his focus back on the clay lick. "Same time, same place, and they could care less that we're watching."

"Does it make you feel small?" Ryan asks, slouching down in his chair and tipping his head back. "Change your perspective at all?"

"Not necessarily small," Sam says, with a light shrug, "but fleeting. Like they'll still be doing this long after we're gone."

"Probably." Ryan nods. Then he looks over at his lover with a teasing smile. "Don't get morbid on me."

"You're the one who started it," Sam protests, eyes sparkling.

Ryan shrugs, grinning. "Bad influence."

"Damn right," Sam says with a nod. "I was a perfect angel before you came along."  



End file.
